The Slasher of Savile Row, episode 1: the second coat
by jayrosario
Summary: Mrs Hudson and John club together to buy Sherlock a birthday present - a new coat from his tailor Belstaff in Saville Rowe - but its arrival triggers an unexpected reaction from Sherlock, and a state of emergency.


The Overcoat

episode 1

'There's a parcel for you, Sherlock,' announced Mrs Hudson, placing a large square box on the table.

'Evidently,' said Sherlock, registering with peripheral vision as he continued to stare out of the window. 'But I didn't order anything from Belstaff.'

There was a lightning exchange of glances between Mrs Hudson and John.

'And what makes you think it's from Belstaff?' John asked.

Sherlock turned to face them and delivered his reply at high speed.

'Parcel. Delivered here.' He looked at John. 'Why? When we have a post office box which, judging by the pile of bills on the table, you have already cleared this morning. So it must have come by courier. My tailor delivers by courier. A van drew up just now and the driver got out, though as my view was interrupted by a large group of people who had just got off a bus, I was unable to see if he was making a delivery, but judging from the size of that box, it contains either a suit or an overcoat. I naturally draw the conclusion that it is from Belstaff of Saville Row – sent in error, because, as I say, I did not order it.'

'Perhaps it's a present,' ventured Mrs Hudson.

'I did not place an order with them. And tailors, Mrs Hudson, are not in the habit of sending presents. They are professional people who work for money, and who earn too little of it to be in the business of making unsolicited contributions to their clients' wardrobes.

Mrs Hudson gave a pronounced huff, and said to John, 'Isn't he a pain? Shall we tell him?'

'No,' said John. 'He can find out for himself. Open it, Sherlock.'

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 'Why would I do that? Since it has been sent to me by mistake, it will have to be returned. Why would I put Mrs Hudson to the trouble of packing it up again?'

'I've told you before,' Mrs Hudson retorted, 'I'm not your housekeeper. You can do your own packaging. And you don't deserve any presents.' She turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

'Well that's a good start,' said John.

He handed Sherlock the letter opener. 'Here. Open it. It's for you, trust me.'

Sherlock's mouth tightened. He twirled the silver letter opener and stabbed the edge of the parcel, dragging the blade so it made a wide gash in the brown paper and the layer of premium cardboard beneath.

'You've spoiled the box, Sherlock. They're collector's items, you know, those Saville Row boxes.'

The injured box was now stripped bare, and Sherlock pulled the lid away with a flourish. For a fleeting second, something like a smile passed across his face.

'Overcoat,' he pronounced.

'Yes,' said John, rallying his last reserves of patience. Aren't you going to try it on?'

Sherlock put an arm through one of the sleeves and drew the coat up across his shoulders. 'It fits,' he said, shooting the other arm into place.

'Yes, Sherlock. Your tailor does actually know your measurements, surprising as that may seem. Happy Birthday, by the way.'

'It's my birthday?'

'Yes, Sherlock. At last I know something you don't.'

'I've just never taken any interest in birthdays. Don't see the relevance.' Sherlock was admiring himself now, turning profile and raising the collar of the coat in his preferred style. 'I suppose I should say thank you.'

'I suppose you should. And you owe Mrs Hudson an apology. It was her idea, as a matter of fact. Considering the state of the coat you've been wearing.'

'What's wrong with it? It was only brought a couple of years ago.'

'Yes and look what it's been through – scraped along walls, tumbled over cobble stones, splashed with god knows what chemicals in the lab. If anyone with your skills got hold of that coat, they could tell exactly where you've been and what you've been doing for the last 24 months.'

'Do you know I've never thought of that.'

'Luckily no-one else has your skills,' said John.

In an instant, Sherlock's manner changed. 'Moriarty!' he hissed. 'John, what did you do with my old coat?'

'Mrs Hudson took it, to give to one of her causes.'

Sherlock flung the door open and bellowed down the stairs. 'Mrs Hudson!'

She appeared swiftly enough, a little breathless. 'Pleased, is he?' she said to John.

'There's not a moment to loose,' said Sherlock. 'Mrs Hudson, bring my coat. My _old_ coat.'

'But I just put it out this morning, in the charity bag they leave on the doorstep.'

Pushing past her, Sherlock was down the stairs in two bounds, and out in the street, cursing. Whatever had been left on the doorstep was there no longer, but here was the van from the blind society, drawing up outside to collect to the bags left out by the neighbors on either side.


End file.
